What's Your All-Time Favorite Basenotes review?

I have two that immediately come to mind, both of which are from the_good_life:

Creed's Royal English Leather:
"A sweet, oriental leather, not of the birch tar variety. Do not expect a dirty, challenging, cowboy leather, but a regal potion oozing nobility, crawling into every crevice of a throne room like some rich, dark golden, olfactory honey, forming a shimmering luxuriant aura around its wearer. Bend your knee indeed. A gentle, rather than zesty, fruity top, creamy beige-rolls-royce interior leather, and the oriental caramel sweetness of a fantasy Taj Mahal-India. Indeed, the year of its creation, 1780, saw the second Mysore war of the British in India. Strange coincidences. This opulent yet absolutely lucent fragrance smells of pre-democratic, pre-capitalist Old Europe (in the nice part of town, that is). Im not surprised it was created just at the time when democracy and capitalism started taking off seriously (it was reformulated in 1805). Mr. Creed must have known he was creating a fragrant preserve of the old order. While Im with Tom Paine politically, the winner in the aesthetics department is the ancien regime, or rather, the English constitutional monarchy. Royal English Leather deserves six stars for having aged so very gracefully, for its abundant but not overwrought luxuriousness, for being a monument to the idea that quality may transcend epochs and their fashions.

On a personal note: this was my first Creed, and smelling it caused an olfactory epiphany that assured my abiding interest in this house ."

and Penhaligon's Hammam Bouquet:
"Orientalism captured in a bottle. This is the olfactory complement to Ingres Turkish Bath, which is, of course, what a Hammam is. A brilliant projection of repressed Victorian sexuality upon the foil of an imaginary Araby. Fantasies of a Sultans absolute power and unrestrained sexual indulgence with unlimited numbers of women, of reversing the strict codes of the British social veneer in the dreamland that Stephen Marcus, in The Other Victorians, labeled Pornotopia. What better way of scentualizing these desires but by combining the rich floral power of rose attar and the violet-like orris, supported by a hint of cedar that adds a traces of oriental spiciness, with the smell of sex created by musk and amber. Hamman, we realize, is just a code for what a Victorian perfume could not be called, despite deliberately intending the association: Harem bouquet. This smells like a heady opulent boudoir in which people have just had sex, pure and simple. And certainly everybody in fine society knew this and yet did not Victorian doublethink. Few scents could be richer in cultural history and this, seriously, should be smelled by students in seminars on the Victorian Era, British imperialism, Orientalism - and gender history, since quite likely many present-day individuals would experience gender confusion here, associating femininity (perhaps even of the Queen Mum sort)with the flowery aspects and then stumbling over the sexual-animalic component."

"Oh, first reviewer! I shall have to describe the smell then, in addition to ranting, raving. and sharing anecdotes. Fraiche Badiane reminds me of Guerlain's vetiver, or most vetivers for that matter. It begins with TART citrus, green grass, and anise. I love the anise, and it remains throughout. The finish is earthy, green, and a bit musty. It smells like my grandfather's armoire-- in a good way-- like the smell of European sachets on a bespoke, monagrammed jacket. I attempted to make Fraiche Badiane my signature scent but fate saw otherwise. My bottle was brutally slammed in a drawer in my SO's fit of petty rage, losing the spray part. I replaced the mechanism with a Jo Malone top-- however Fraiche Badiane's spritz was left more a akin to a sorry squirt, like a urinating cupid fountain. Later the bottle was broken by a drunken party-goer looking for bath oil. Red glass all over! Shame I am to fickle to re-purchase. I have moved on."

by dynamicddanny , 02 September 2005

I'm sorry about this..not a review from BN, but from MUA, but I had to share it. I was a bit iffy about buying Rose Poivree blind, but I instanly bought it after reading this review....I've really haven't done that before.....the review.........by darkharbour.

"I need to confess before I begin this review, to share a vivid tableau of my life, to make you best understand the impact of this fragrance.
I had my first -- and only-- Latin lover, 30 years ago. I was 19, he was 29. Until then, I had only experienced love with a sweet, wonderful blond boy, whose nose peeled in the summer, who played tennis, and who needed to shave infrequently. I met S. the summer after my first year of college, at the lake near my home. I shamelessly gave him my phone number, in front of my younger brother and sister for whom I had just bought ice cream. He was in Boston for the summer, working for the Argentine airline. He was a man, not a boy. His hands were rugged, sinewy, and strong. The starburst crevices around his eyes were lighter than the tea-colored skin around them. His teeth were startling white against umber lips. His hair was the color of coffee and as coarse as moss. His body was tall, lean, and hard. I did not stand a chance.
On our first date, he took me dancing. Our bodies compressed on the dance floor, locked at the pelvis. My right hand caressed the wiry hair at his nape, my left slid into the back pocket of his cream linen pants. He tasted of burnt tobacco and red wine. He smelled of man, virile, passionate, in control. He was an alpha shapeshifter, his handsome face hiding his true vulpine nature. I became his she-wolf in heat. In that short, languid summer, he taught me about love, passion, and being a woman. These were lessons for a lifetime. I cannot forget the sensation of having a real man's hands touch me for the first time, his stubble grazing my tender skin. The morning after he left his first marks of love on my body, I could not tear myself away from the mirror. I stared at my marked, naked reflection, and welcomed the woman we had birthed together.
That summer, I wore Jontue, a heady, vibrant, mass market floral. That scent, mixed with his, mixed with ours, is evoked by Rose Poivree. Just smelling it causes reflexive reactions; my eyes shine, my cheeks redden, my lips part. Rose Poivree is a roiling broth of floribunda, of fever pitch arousal, of spent passion. It is the scent of extreme physical ecstacy; of rhythmic, pulsing waves of florid lust. Dark rose, biting pepper, and an animalic overlay create this air of succumbing to one's most basic instincts. It reminds us we are still mammals, warm-blooded, and at times, at the mercy of our bestial natures."

For me it's not a single review but the thread where Milamber and The-Odor shared their reviews of many frags. Others posted there too. Was very rich and fun to read.

I don't have a favorite review but a favorite reviewer- The infamous and ever elusive mr nead nitram.
I hope I am remebering this correctly. Isn't he the one that speaks of de charlus

Rick

cedarmoth, talking about Dzing!

Zibeline wrote re Kadota:

"The fig is a very secretive fruit.
As you see it standing growing, you feel at once it is symbolic:
And it seems male.
But when you come to know it better, you agree with the Romans, it is female. "

So wrote D. H. Lawrence in "Figs", his poem about the fruit and ripe sexuality. The poem was also adapted for the film "Women in Love", and is interpreted beautifully by Alan Bates. While it could be argued that Lawrence was able to see sex in anything and everything, the sexualization of the fig goes back to Eden. The fig tree provided both the forbidden fruit and our first clothing.

I adore "Women in Love" and figs are a favorite fruit, so naturally I expected fig fragrances to be sexy. Instead I have found them to be either at best green and clean, or at worst saccharine fruitcakes. Premier Figieur is green and fleeting, Anthousa's version was biting and too citric on my skin, Philosykos turned to powder on me, and BBW made the fruitcake. I found no Eden in fig scents unless it was an Eden before the fall.

Two days ago I received a sample of Michael Storer's fig based scent, Kadota. Given my experience with figs, I thought it would be short lasting scent so I applied it as I ran off to work. I wore it again today, after a trip into town to confirm my opinion of several other fig scents (this on a day with terrible traffic, but I wanted to be sure).

Now, I have to change some of my ideas on fig scents. In previous threads, Michael described the scent as dewy, green and lush. Kadota is green and leafy but manages to avoid the sour/bitter note that turns many away from green scents. The green is fresh but it also has a natural touch of sweetness that never moves toward sugary. I was surprised by the spicy opening which manages to further temper the green, accentuate the fruit and which lasts until the woodsy, sensual musky basenotes. I have read that figs have an innate musky aroma, but I would not be surprised to learn that a musk note was added. Lush is the key word, deep, ripe, earthy and lush. And Kadota lasted on my skin!

In the description that accompanied my sample of Kadota, the fragrance was described as "jammy", and I have a quarrel with that word in this case. Jams are homogeneous things that are heavily sweet and come out of jars. If I had to choose a foody word for Kadota it would be chutney, a freshly crushed, fragrant chutney, which is more complex and a far sexier garnish.

Is Kadota unisex? Yes, I can see it worn by both men and women. The other figs I've tried are certainly far more feminine than Kadota. The intensity of the opening and the absence of powder and sugar throughout the composition make this one something men can easily wear. People at work told me that I smelled "really wonderful". When, and if, they comment about my other scents, the standard word is "pretty". Old D. H. Lawrence believed figs were ultimately very feminine fruits, but then he didn't know modern perfumery.

Thanks to Michael Storer for a long lasting splendid fig scent, and for letting me have a preview of it.

the_good_life's review of C&S No. 88:

"A pale preraffaelite rose blooming in cold moonlight upon mine own grave [...] its vapors entwine John Donne's darkest moments, Burne-Jones canvasses, My Last Duchess, Aubrey Beardsley, Joy Division and the album cover of Depeche Mode's 1990 Violator [...] the kind of scent which I have no desire to rationally understand and only feel I can adequately describe in the given associative manner."

my favorite reviewer also. and this is his review of the only cologne i wear:

"The Baron de Charlus once told me: "It was in a Hampshire churchyard that I first encountered the original Dunhill for Men (1934). It emanated from an elderly and aristocratic-looking clergyman, complete with tweeds and pipe, who was busy poking his walking stick at dandelions among the tombstones.
Drawing rather too close for his comfort, I proceeded to sniff at him prodigiously. 'A somewhat timid tincture,' I pronounced, 'but nonetheless perfectly balanced in its reticence: a conservative combination that manages to be quietly ecstatic in its progressive fusions of citrus, florals and restrained leather. As the admirable Foetidus has remarked, it demands superlatives, although personally I would prefer just a touch more strength and duration.'
'Excellent, my dear fellow,' replied the reverend gentleman rather nervously, somewhat disconcerted by my close proximity, 'jolly good show and all that. But perhaps you and the admirable Foetidus should go back to from where you came, lest, God forbid, something unseemly should chance to happen.'""

mohamed

Today, this one:

The Baron de Charlus once composed an incantation for Mitsouko eau de toilette: "O mighty metamorphoses of variegated impressions, O subtle transmutations of delicate echoes in animalistic abysses, initial whispers of jacinth, tamarind and peaches retreating in smoke, O shifting shapes, ash on an old man's sleeve, the powdery, withered skin of the elderly Duchess, nefarious odours emanating from under the flaps of the crocodile's scales, the rich, overheated boudoir with the windows sealed shut, the Queen's laundry basket full of the smells of soiled and perfumed clothing, the haunted mansion on the hill lost in mist and time, disembodied voices of the dead recalling their memories of fleshly delights, the sweet, powdery smell of slow decay flitting over the pure and virginal skin of the young Princess, frail dawn cobwebs hanging in the sombre woods, somewhat nauseous waves of respectability, decadence, sex and death emanating from the pages of a Victorian novel.

Poetic? To be sure. Philosophical? To be sure. Wearable? Hmmm ... In terms of wearability, its final phase seems to me the best - when Mitsouko takes on the aroma of a warm, kindly, subtle second skin, both natural and elegant."

Naed_Nitram